FROM GUAYAQUIL TO QUITO: THREE NINETEENTH-CENTURY TRAVEL NARRATIVES
Leona S. Martin
Susquehanna University
Countless nineteenth-century international travelers climbed the hazardous Inca trail that led from the coastal city of Guayaquil up into the Andean highlands and then on to Ecuador’s capital city of Quito. Scientific exploration, mountain climbing, cultural and economic expansion, diplomacy, and evangelism were but a few of their callings. From tropical jungles to the magnificent “Monarch of the Andes,” Mount Chimborazo, the terrain they crossed was an ultimate challenge to their physical and mental fortitude. At the same time, it afforded them contact with unparalleled human and natural diversity.
Many travelers published accounts of their adventures and reactions to the people and lands of Ecuador in their home countries, where travel to “exotic” areas of the world interested many readers. Some of these works, both in their original language and in Spanish translations, have proved exceedingly valuable to those readers who seek to trace the development of Ecuador’s national identity through outsiders’ eyes.[1] Other travel accounts have not been re-edited or translated, or may lie “forgotten” on dusty library shelves throughout the world. On-going retrieval and analysis of this literature can further illuminate nineteenth-century political, geographical, and human realities in Ecuador and in the regions of the world whose residents bravely ventured into the heartland of Spanish America.[2]
I am particularly interested in those passages that describe experiences on the Guayaquil-Quito trail. This trajectory represents a canonical heroic paradigm for travel in the New World. As such, it tends to elicit from travelers the expression of an unusually wide range of personal qualities and emotions. From the numerous accounts I have gathered to date, I have selected for this study those written by three travelers: James Orton, a Vassar professor who led three separate scientific expeditions across the continent of South America; Emilia Serrano de Wilson, Spain’s forgotten “Cantora de las Américas”; and Edward Whymper, the famous English mountaineer and artist, who, prior to his arrival in Ecuador, had achieved international fame as the first man to scale the Matterhorn (1865). These three individuals are of particular interest because of the highly divergent attitudes and experiences they express. More importantly, two of them (Orton and Serrano de Wilson), have been virtually forgotten and clearly deserve retrieval from obscurity.
James Orton in 1867, Emilia Serrano de Wilson in October of 1879, and Whymper just two months later, disembarked at the port city of Guayaquil and set forth a few days later for the overland trip to Quito. Prior to the time of their travel, a number of critical events had succeeded in unveiling Spain’s fiercely guarded American territories, opening them up to the “Imperial Eyes” of visitors who arrived from all areas of the world.[3]
The first step in this process occurred in 1735. At that time, the Spanish monarch, Philip V, granted permission to the French International Expedition led by Charles de la Condamine to travel in Ecuador in order to measure a longitudinal degree on the Equator. The best possible site for ascertaining this information, deemed essential for map-makers and empire builders, was in the area of the equinoctial Andes to the north of Quito. In her authoritative study, Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation, Mary Louise Pratt calls attention to the particularly momentous nature of this venture, which opened Spain’s American territories to official, albeit limited, travel by foreigners (16). Narratives written by La Condamine and the French and Spanish members of his expedition later circulated throughout Europe, captivating readers with their harrowing tales of hardship, triumph, adventure, and–for many expeditioners–death.
No one did more to mythologize the Ecuadorian Andes than the great German adventurer and naturalist, Alexander von Humboldt. From 1799 to 1804, Humboldt and his companion, Aimée Bonpland, explored New World jungles, plains, river routes, and the Andean Cordillera. They studied all aspects of nature and human activity, taking copious notes and collecting thousands of plant and animal specimens.
Humboldt’s particular fascination with Ecuador’s snow-capped volcanoes lay, as Stephen Jay Gould explains, in “the maximum diversity of life and landscape, the summum bonum of aesthetic joy and intellectual wonder” offered by that site (100). Only in the Andes of South America, contends Gould, does “the full luxuriance of the lowland jungle stand in the shadow of such a massive range of snow-clad peaks” (100).
Particularly seductive for Humboldt was Chimborazo, then believed to be the world’s tallest peak. His attempt to conquer “The Monarch of the Andes,” undertaken without proper equipment or clothing, failed within a short distance of the summit. Ironically, this misadventure inspired others–not the least of them, Simón Bolívar–to pursue glory where Humboldt had failed.
In 1804 Humboldt returned, not to his homeland, but to Paris, where he spent more than two decades writing in French about his American travels and investigations. In him, the artist and the scientist were one. His exquisite engravings and lyrical descriptions of New World natural wonders soon captured the imagination of readers on both sides of the Atlantic and led to their imaginary “rediscovery” of the New World. Encouraged by the colonies’ independence from Spain (1810-1820) and the expanded freedom to travel throughout the New World, numerous disciples of Humboldt followed his example in forging their own American travel adventures.
Orton, Serrano de Wilson, and Whymper all operated under Humboldt’s sway. Orton’s eloquent prose and his admirable erudition make him a worthy Humboldt disciple. Serrano de Wilson struggled valiantly to follow in Humboldt’s footsteps despite the insurmountable disadvantages she suffered because of her gender. Whymper, on the other hand, competed with Humboldt’s legacy. He arrived in Ecuador bent on the mission of adding Mount Chimborazo to the Matterhorn on his list of mountain conquests.
All of them first encountered Ecuadorian realities on the Guayaquil-Quito trail. It challenged them with insects and other “wild life,” severe weather conditions, and the ruts and humps (camellones) that had been worn into the road’s surface by centuries of human and animal footsteps. It was particularly perilous during the rainy season when the ground underfoot turned into a river of treacherous mud. At day’s end, the lodgings that awaited travelers were miserable. The Inca tambos, as depicted by virtually all travel writers, were cold, inhospitable huts where the finest meal was a bowl of choclo (potato soup).
For many travelers, the hardships of travel could not detract from the sense of wonder they experienced in the presence of unparalleled natural beauty. No trail on earth, moreover, would lead them in such a short distance through regions marked by such total ethnic and bio-diversity. For those who were attuned to the life of the spirit, the climb from steaming jungle to snow-capped volcano became a pilgrimage of the soul, culminating in the final view of Chimborazo’s snow-covered summit.
No traveler could have been more “attuned to the life of the soul” than James Orton. He was born in Seneca Falls, New York, in 1830, the fifth of eight sons of a Protestant minister (Miller 11). At an early age, he demonstrated precocious interest in writing, science, and theology. A degree from Williams College and subsequent study at the Andover Theological Seminary led to his first career as a Congregational minister. He held several New England pastorates from 1855 to 1866. He then returned to academe and to scientific field work. At Williams College he undertook research projects that led to his first South American expedition in 1869, for which he secured financial backing from the College and the Smithsonian Institution. Upon return to his homeland, he accepted a position on the faculty of Vassar College, his final academic appointment. Teaching and two more scientific expeditions to South America filled the final decade of his life.
Orton’s first impressions of South America, observed along the Guayaquil-Quito trail, are recorded in The Andes and the Amazon, first published in 1870. The book was reprinted twice, the third revised edition (1876) expanded to include numerous illustrations and the record of his second South American expedition.
Orton’s eloquence, his eye for detail, and his gift for narrative are without equal in the works I have gathered so far. His description of the Guayaquil-Quito trajectory illustrates all of these qualities.
Several scenes and descriptions are particularly memorable. Practically all travelers comment on the human squalor they witnessed in Ecuador, and Orton was certainly no exception: “Signs of indolence and neglect were every where visible. Idle men, with an uncertain mixture of European, Negro, and Indian blood; sad-looking Quechua women, carrying a naked infant or a red water-jar on the back; black hogs and lean poultry wandering at will into the houses–such is the picture of the motley life in the inland villages. Strange was the contrast between human poverty and natural wealth” (38). To Orton’s credit, however, he generously comments also on admirable human qualities. Of a local official whose hospitality his entourage enjoyed he writes: “Much as we find to condemn in tropical society, we can not forget the kindness of these simple-hearted people. Though we may portray, in the coming pages, many faults and failings according to a New York standard, we wish it to be understood that there is another side to the picture; that there are virtues on the Andes to which the North is well-nigh a stranger” (35).
The eloquence with which Orton captures his responses to natural beauty is noteworthy: “Our road–a mere path, suddenly entered this seemingly impenetrable forest, where the branches crossed overhead, producing a delightful shade. The curious forms of tropical life were all attractive to one who had recently rambled over the comparatively bleak hills of New England. Delight is a weak term to express the feelings of a naturalist who for the first time wanders in a South American forest” (38).
Theology and philosophy always lie just below the surface of Orton’s musings about the natural world. He ponders the struggle for survival in the tropics as it relates to human society: “We have thought that the vegetation under the equator was a fitter emblem of the human world than the forests of our temperate zone. There is here no set time for decay and death, but we stand amid the living and the dead; flowers and leaves are falling, while fresh ones are budding into life. Then, too, the numerous parasitic plants, making use of their neighbors as instruments for their own advancement, not inaptly represent a certain human class” (39).[4]
Orton may be Chimborazo’s most impassioned spokesman. He first observed it from a Guayaquil balcony: “The great dome reflected dazzlingly the last blushes of the west… It was interesting to watch the mellowing tints on the summit as the shadows crept upward: gold, vermilion, violet, purple, were followed by momentary ‘glory’; then darkness covered the earth, and a host of stars, ‘trembling with excess of light,’ burst suddenly into view over the peaks of the Andes” (33). Biblical passages resonate clearly in this interpretation of the sunset over Chimborazo. Elsewhere, Orton elevates the sacred nature of Chimborazo’s effect on his spirit to mystical heights: “There is something very suggestive in this silence of Chimborazo. It was once full of noise and fury; it is now a completed mountain, and thunders no more. How silent was Jesus, a completed character! The reason we are so noisy is that we are so full of wants; we are unfinished characters. Had we perfect fullness of all things, the beatitude of being without a want, we should lapse into the eternal silence of God” (132).
Orton’s expressive rendering of nature’s wonders is perfectly counterbalanced by the wealth of scientific information he conveys. No further proof of this observation is required than a perusal of the chapter headings found in The Andes and the Amazon. I cite but a few: “Early History of Quito,” “Diseases in the Highlands,” “Flora and Fauna of the Valley of Quito,” “Geological History of South America,” “Creation of the Amazon,” “Anacondas and Howling Monkeys,” “General Characteristics of the Amazon Indians: Their Languages, Costumes, and Habitations.”
Orton never returned from his third South American expedition, which took him to the jungle areas and river systems of Amazonian Bolivia. Illness forced him to retrace his steps in an attempt to return home, but he got no farther than Lake Titicaca. Denied burial in the local cemetery because of his Protestant affiliation, his body was laid to rest on Esteves Island, a small privately owned islet in the lake. It was a fitting burial ground for this brilliant naturalist who so deeply loved the lands, the people, and the natural wonders of South America. Titicaca was, as Orton had written some years earlier, “the historic centre of the continent… the theatre of ancient American civilization,” a characterization he had quoted from Humboldt (Orton, 3rd edition 421).
The life and works of the second traveler I will consider, Emilia Serrano de Wilson, like those of James Orton, have been practically forgotten.[5] Her numerous writings–journal articles, novels, travel narratives, poetry, treatises on education, behavior manuals for young ladies, and school books–were published in many capital cities throughout the Spanish-speaking world. Ironically, the fact that she published in so many different places may ultimately have undermined her legacy, for no single literary or cultural tradition subsequently claimed her or stepped forward to preserve her memory.
Most of what is known about Emilia Serrano de Wilson comes from the autobiographical fragments found in her books. Born in Granada (1836?), she subsequently moved with her family to Paris where she received most of her schooling. She flourished in the intellectual milieu of the time. Her participation in cultural circles and her love of literature and books, particularly those dealing with the Americas, left an indelible stamp on her life. During this early stage in her life, Paris was in the grip of Humboldt’s influence and issues related to the Americas were foremost in the minds of many. Mary Louise Pratt notes among these issues the heated “Querelle d’Amérique,” “the long and arrogant dispute among European intellectuals over the relative size, value, and variety of American flora and fauna, in comparison with those of Europe and other continents” (120). Although Emilia Serrano had limited access to educational opportunities, particularly in the sciences, she avidly read all the information she could find on the natural and social history of the Americas.
Doña Emilia’s early marriage to an English nobleman, Baron Wilson, ended with his premature death. Shortly thereafter yet another tragedy befell the young widow: the death of their four-year-old daughter. As an antidote to her grief, she traveled with her mother throughout her homeland and Europe.
Against the wishes of family and friends, and traveling by herself, Emilia Serrano set sail for the Antilles in 1865. From then on, her life was inextricably bound to the countries of the Western Hemisphere. During her second sojourn in the Americas (1873-1888), her travels took her to almost all countries of the hemisphere, with prolonged periods of residence in Argentina, Perú, Ecuador, and Mexico.
To support herself, Serrano de Wilson relied on her publications and the patronage of government officials and the cultural establishment. Thus, for example, she dedicated the text she wrote about her arrival in Ecuador, Una Página en América (Apuntes de Guayaquil a Quito), to the President of the Republic, Ignacio de Veintemilla. Self-promotion was essential to her survival, and nowhere do we find greater evidence of this ploy than in the text under consideration. Indeed, in the final paragraph, the self-proclaimed “Cantora de las Américas” further embellishes her image with the additional sobriquets of “Peregrina del siglo XIX: incansable investigadora de las ruinas…voz entusiasta, espíritu universal” (34).
Thanks to the Hispanic roots and language she shared with her American hosts, Emilia Serrano de Wilson negotiated Spanish American spaces from a transculturated stance. She renders her travel experiences from Guayaquil to Quito in terms that differ markedly from those used by other international travelers. She minimizes the unpleasantness encountered at the tambos (where she, like all travelers, was forced to lodge) while highlighting the hospitality of those who helped her along the way. Nature’s splendor helped eliminate the fear she felt: “Los paisajes son tan variados que apenas en esas escabrosidades de Pisagua, en los escalones de piedra que el caballo salva con habilidad suma, en el paso de los rios, en las escarpadas subidas, en los resbaladizos peñascales, se piensa en el peligro” (18). Throughout, doña Emilia self-consciously calls attention to her bravery and exhilaration in the presence of danger and unequalled natural beauty. During all her travels she assumed the triple role of “woman of letters,” “naturalist,” and “adventurer”: a Madame de Staël and Alexander von Humboldt rolled into one.
Though devoid of the overtly evangelistic tones that mark James Orton’s reaction to Mount Chimborazo, Emilia Serrano de Wilson’s experience is remarkably similar. She writes:
La primera luz del alba me encontró levantada: salí del tambo, subí a una colina y desde aquel sitio contemplé en toda su magnificencia la mole ante la cual me parecía ser un átomo insignificante, pequeño y perdido en un mundo colosal. Absorta permanecí largo rato. Me olvidé de todo: el espectáculo era completo y la misma aridez del terreno propia de las grandes elevaciones, hacía destacarse con augusta majestad la cabeza de ese coetáneo de la gran obra universal… No era admiración lo que sentía. Era más aún, algo indefinible, Dirigí al cielo la mirada, elevé un himno de entusiasmo y comprendí a Bolívar escribiendo su Delirio. (21)
Many of the pages that Serrano de Wilson wrote about her experiences in Ecuador can be found in the handsome volume she published in 1890, América y sus mujeres. “La Cantora de las Américas” was an exceptional woman whose greatest achievement may well have been her role in helping to construct a strong Pan-Hispanic sisterhood that promoted the interests and aspirations of women throughout the Spanish-speaking world.[6]
The final subject of this study is the Englishman, Edward Whymper, a name well known in Ecuador and among mountain-climbing enthusiasts worldwide. More than a century after his mountain climbing expeditions, interest in Whymper’s life and exploits remains high. Recently published, for example, is the book, Killing Dragons: The Conquest of the Alps, which includes an authoritative reassessment of Whymper’s conquest of the Matterhorn (1865), a triumph marred by the tragic death of four of his companions as they descended from the mountain’s summit.
Whymper arrived in Ecuador in December of 1879. His mission was to explore Ecuador’s Andean peaks and, above all, to become the first person to conquer Mount Chimborazo, an endeavor of which he writes: “I was prepared to devote the whole of the time that I could remain in Ecuador to Chimborazo alone”(54). Published some years later (1892) was his illustrated account of his research in Ecuador, Travels Amongst the Great Andes, an invaluable source of geological and botanical information that has subsequently been reprinted in English (1987) and in an abbreviated Spanish translation (Escaladas en los Andes, 1953).
Much has been written about Whymper, the man, of whom one of his biographers noted: “There is nothing to show in his correspondence or in his life that he ever loved anyone” (Whymper 6). His first contacts with Ecuador along the Guayaquil-Quito trail brought him into intimate contact with an alien geography and with local residents whose demeanor and customs filled him with revulsion. He assumes the attitude of the haughty European who surveys his surroundings with contempt. Admittedly, he undertook his overland trek just as the rainy season was beginning; thus, the travel conditions were particularly hazardous. Whymper’s description of the camellones is priceless:
The mud is compounded of decaying animal and vegetable matter, churned up with earth, and the product is a greasy and captivating slime. The interesting series of ridges–termed camellones–crossing the track at right angles to its course, are generally considered by travellers to have been originated by the regular tread of animals. Typical examples have a furrow of liquid mud upon each side of a ridge of slippery soil, with a difference of level of two feet or more between the top of the ridge and the bottom of the furrows; and a man and beast struggle over the one and wallow in the others upon this grand route to the interior. (33-34)
The sarcastic tone conveyed by the words grand route turns macabre in Whymper’s descriptions of the tambos: “Sleep was enlivened by superabundant animal life. Bats flapped in our faces, and thousands of insects swarmed down upon the candles, while scuttling things of all sorts ranged the floor and invaded our boots” (33), and elsewhere: “Two small huts on its summit were termed Tambo Gobierno. They contained accommodation for neither man nor beast, and nothing edible except one very shriveled, old Indian woman” (37).
Not for Whymper are the subjective, expressive depictions of Chimborazo that we find in Orton and Serrano de Wilson. His version is clinically objective, grounded in the scientific considerations of the geologist and mountain climber. He continually compares his observations with those recorded by Humboldt and other adventurers and frequently notes inaccuracies in Humboldt’s data concerning heights and his rate of descent. Whymper clearly proposed to set the record straight by virtue of his superior experience and knowledge.
During his time in Ecuador, Whymper succeeded in conquering Chimborazo–not just once, but twice! His conquests of numerous other equinoctial snow- covered peaks added greatly to his impressive record as a mountain climber and, most notably, as a scientist. His expert observations of geological formations and the effects of high altitudes on the human body were (and still are) immensely valuable to other scientists and mountaineers. Furthermore, in a writer whose prose is devoid of lyricism, we find an artist whose masterful engravings have left for posterity a clearly etched image of the formidable beauty found in the equinoctial Andes
Among the numerous unanswered questions raised by this area of research is the extent to which writings such as those outlined above have influenced Ecuadorians in the construction of their national identity. Whymper’s books, which have been translated into Spanish, are well-known and frequently cited by Ecuadorian scholars. Evidence of any lingering influence that Serrano de Wilson may have exerted is slim. It surfaces on occasion in surprising ways, however, such as in the visitors’ center located at the base of Mount Cotopaxi’s snow line, where a large plaque at the entryway bears an eloquent description of the volcano penned by none other than “La Baronesa de Wilson.”
In small ways, Orton’s legacy remains alive in Spanish America. In Bolivia there is a river, a forest, and a town that bear his name (Miller 24). Moreover, herpetologists will find his name associated with more than 30 Amazonian species.[7] His works have not been reedited since 1887 and, with the exception of a few anthologized pages, have never been translated into Spanish.[8] Furthermore, his death curtailed the dissemination of his research, not only in Spanish America, but also in the United States. Nothing remains from his final expedition. Upon his death along the shores of Lake Titicaca, a Peruvian government official “took possession of his journals and boxes with his scientific collections” (Miller 24), with the promise that they would be shipped to the United States. The shipment never arrived.
While the Orton records that were lost somewhere between Lake Titicaca and the New York harbor are irretrievable, others can be still be rescued. Re-editions and translations of these materials are invaluable for readers and scholars, those who seek a clearer understanding of nineteenth-century social, political, environmental, and economic realities in Latin America. Accounts of Ecuador recorded through the eyes of international travelers tell us much about the areas they visited. At the same time, they can reveal even more about the cultures and regions of the world that launched the great wave of nineteenth-century international travel.
Notas
[1] Ecuadorian editorial houses, such as Abya-Yala, have strongly encouraged the publication of travel literature. Ecuadorian scholars have published excellent anthologies that document nineteenth century travel by foreigners in Ecuador. Especially noteworthy is Humberto Toscano’s El Ecuador visto por los Extranjeros (1960). Other works, particularly those written by French travelers of the nineteenth century, have benefited from the translations rendered by Ecuadorian diplomat, Darío Lara (Viajeros franceses al Ecuador en el siglo XIX).. Also worthy of mention are more recent critical studies of this literature, such as the volume edited by Blanca Muratorio, (Imagenes e imagineros. Quito: FLACSO, 1994).
[2] My interest in this field of inquiry stems from research on the Spanish traveler and woman of letters, Emilia Serrano de Wilson, who journeyed and resided for more than twenty years (1860-1885) in many countries throughout the Western Hemisphere as the self-proclaimed “Cantora de las Américas.” Doña Emilia’s account of her 1879 journey between Guayaquil and Quito led to my investigation of other accounts of this particular geographical trajectory.
[3] My use of “Imperial Eyes” reflects the terminology created by Mary Louise Pratt in her landmark study, Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation. New York: Routledge, 1992.
[4] In Orton’s approach to science we find the strong influence of both Humboldt and Darwin, to whom he dedicated The Andes and the Amazon. The topic of their influence invites further analysis.
[5] Readers are directed to the 1999 article I published in Hispania (82:01), “The Many Voices of Emilia Serrano, Baronesa de Wilson, Spain’s Forgotten ‘Cantora de las Américas’”.
[6] Aside from Serrano de Wilson, I have identified only one other nineteenth century female “international” traveler whose written record of her experiences in Ecuador has been preserved: the Austrian, Ida Pfeiffer.
[7] I am deeply indebted to John Simmons, the Coordinator of Historical Administration and Museum Studies Programs at the University of Kansas, for his help in tracking down some of the species that were named for Orton and that subsequently became part of US collections.
[8] The translation into Spanish of a few Orton pages is included in Humberto Tuscano’s El Ecuador visto por los extranjeros. Puebla: Editorial Cajica, 1961 (357-375).
References
Gould, Stephen Jay. “Church, Humboldt, and Darwin: The Tension and Harmony of Art and Science,” in Franklin Kelly, Frederic Edwin Church. Washington D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1989.
Fleming, Fergus. Killing Dragons: The Conquest of the Alps. New York: Atlantic Monthly Press, 2000.
Miller, Robert Ryal. “James Orton: A Yankee Naturalist in South America, 1867-1877.” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society. Vol. 126, No. 1 (1982): 11-25.
Muratoria, Blanca, ed. Imagenes e imagineros. Quito: FLACSO, 1944.
Orton, James. The Andes and the Amazon. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1870.
———-. The Andes and the Amazon, 3rd ed. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1876.
Orton, Susan. “A Sketch of James Orton.” Vassar Quarterly. Vol I, No.1 (1916): (2-8).
Pratt, Mary Louise. Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation. New York: Routledge, 1992.
Serrano de Wilson, Emilia. América y sus mujeres. Barcelona: Tipografía Fidel Giró, 1890.
———-. Una página en América (Apuntes de Guayaquil a Quito). Quito: Imprenta Nacional, 1880.
Toscano, Humberto. El Ecuador visto por los extranjeros. Viajeros de los siglos XVIII y XIX. Puebla, México: Cajica, 1960.
Whymper, Edward. Travels Amongst the Great Andes of the Equator. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons,1892.
———-. Escaladas en los Andes. Barcelona: Editorial Juvenil. 1953.